Hello Mr. Shapiro

“Get in there!” the officer yelled into my ear as he grabbed my shoulder and pushed me through the cell door. I winced from the force. I was beaten up, see. Black eyes, nose bleeding all over my new suit, knuckles busted, a gash along the side of my face and I had an ache in my leg, which made me glad they didn’t just kill me on the spot like they do everybody else.

See, the cell was gray and dingy. Like all cells, there was a stained sink and a pee hole, which was overflowing with something fowl I didn’t want to take a closer look at. I walked further into the cell and took a seat on a faded wooden bench. A few moments later I had company. In walked in this brawly guy and this skinny black guy. They both didn’t look at each other or at me as they walked in, the black guy taking a seat on the bench opposite of me, and the brawly guy standing over the sink.

“Get in there!” another officer yelled shoving two preppy looking white kids into the cell, the last of my company, and locked the cell door shut. “Now sit down and shut up,” the officer said to one of the boys, who was sobbing for his phone call. “You’ll get your phone call once Jose over there is done with his.”

The officer left tossing the keys to the cell to the officer that had apprehended me who was sitting at the front desk. I looked back at the two kids, the crybaby still crying and the other one trying to comfort him. “Yo, make your boy shut up or I’ll shut him up myself!” the black guy yelled across the cell at the two kids. The crybaby sniffled and wiped his eyes, taking a seat on the bench beside me, his friend leaning against the peeling gray wall. They didn’t look the type to be in a place like this. They looked like good kids, probably from a good family, but I didn’t know that. That was just what I assumed. Anyway, I took a look at my ruined suit, see, and began to wonder, when the hell were they going to pick me up?

The officer came back, grabbing the keys from the desk and opened the cell door.

“You,” he said pointing at me. I motioned to myself just to make sure he was talking to me. “Yeah, you. You got one phone call.”

I got up from the bench and walked out of the cell. The officer locked it again and I followed him to the pay phone. At the phone, the officer gave me a quarter and five minutes to make my call, then left. I stared at the phone for a bit. I had no idea who to call.

“Times up kid,” the officer said coming back.

“What? I didn’t even make a call!”

“Yeah, well you don’t have to,” he said. “Your uncle’s here.”

I spun around on my heels and looked over at the man at the front desk holding the bag with my stuff in it. Fat Al, I thought. Why’d he send Al? I fucking hate Al. I followed the officer to the front desk and he released me to Fat Al.

Al grinned. “Let’s go kid,” he said grabbing my shoulder in his fat hand and squeezing the living daylights out of it. “Vinnie wants to talk to you,” he added when we were outside of the station by the car. Boy, was I in trouble. Vinnie only wanted to talk to you when he either wanted you to do something for him or you were in trouble. And worse case scenario, it wasn’t Vinnie you were meeting. See, sometimes it was your own buddy ready to aim a gun at your head. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me backtrack.

Now, I can’t offer you an accurate depiction of myself then nor can I tell you about the person I am now. See, times, they change and they’ll keep on changing, ‘cause there’s nothing we can do about it. Nothing at all. That makes us think, you see. If we can’t control time, then what is there left for us to do? Count backwards from a hundred? No. See, many of us are too lazy to even count to three, so instead we lounge. Just lie around, drinking booze and listen to the old piano man play something smooth and jazzy until that one pretty gal walks by.

Her name was Ivy. Never heard a name like that before, yet I guess it must have been common enough to make her mother name her such. Yet, I thought it was exotic. It was something different, something fresh. It was nothing out-of-this-world though. No, it was just Ivy; and man, was she poisonous.

It was a Friday see, and here this gal walks into Uncle Frankie’s like she owned the place. Short skirt, halter top. She was wearing this small black wool coat. She looked like she’d been freezing. Now, on first glance I thought she was a hooker of some sort and I remembered how Vinnie didn’t like hookers at his bar. See, Vinnie was a well-respected man—both during the day and at night. He had no family, see. No wife and no kids. He was a fair guy. By day he was like any old hard working Joe, yet by night, he was a seamless ringleader, with people to take out and big bucks to earn. So when I saw Ivy that day at the bar, I knew Vinnie wouldn’t like it. So I casually walked up to her, sat down on the stool next to her and began to converse, you know, small talk.

“So, some cold weatha we been having.” It wasn’t a question; we learnt never to ask questions. She ignored my sudden attempt at conversation, so I repeated myself and tried again. “Some weatha we been having.”

She looked at me and said, “Oh, you tawking to me?” I listened to her voice; it was smooth, yet rough at the same time. Brooklyn accent.

I nodded. “Yes ma’am,” I said trying to poke fun at that country slang. She gave me a queer look. “What’s a pretty gal like you doing in a place like Frankie’s?”

There it was, the question. Looking back at that moment and what came next I realize that if it weren’t for that one little question, I wouldn’t be here right now like this. Nope. I was taught never to ask questions. Sometimes there are those lessons that you have to forget, so that you can learn their true meaning. Sometimes I think about if this was one of them. Hell, who really knows? Just like the question. Who really knows why Ivy was there that night. I don’t. I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance to find out either. I guess I’ll just have to ponder about that for the rest of my life, or what’s left of it anyway. That at least gives me something to think about rather than thinking about what came next after that goddam question.

“Drinking a beer,” Ivy said, Frankie coming up to her just then, handing her a beer.

“Here you go,” Frankie said. As he passed, he gave me the eye. That eye that tells you that you’re barking up the wrong tree. Yeah, well I ignored it just like everything else I ignored. I simply believed that nothing was going to come out of me talking to Miss Ivy, so all the precedents that were set, I ignored. Well, I went back to conversating.

“Aren’t you cold in that little thing?’ I asked, again another question, yet this time indicating her scarce attire.

She once again proceeded to ignore my questions. “Are you all Italian in here?”

I looked around. There wasn’t much to look at. I mean, Vinnie and the boys weren’t here yet, so the place didn’t quite look like the mafia hangout that it normally would look like at these hours. Yet, I looked around anyway, recognizing some familiar faces. “Yeah, pretty much,” I told her.

She looked around too. So I continued. “I mean, we all are Italian. Some of us more that others though, if you know what I mean.” She looked at me. Catching me eye, our eyes locked in a death glare. She proceeded to pierce through my very being. Getting nervous as to what was going on, Frankie came back with another round.

“Complements, on the house,” he said handing Ivy a second beer.

“Oh thanks,” Ivy said grabbing the beer and holding it up to her mouth to take a sip. She then turned her attention back to me. “I’m Ivy Carrington,” she said.

“Ah, Ivy.” I repeated. “I’m Joe Shapiro.”

“Well,” Ivy started, “hello Mr. Shapiro.”

Mr. Shapiro. That was my father’s name. I know I inherited that name, but here with Vinnie, I inherited a new one: Joey. Just plain old Joey; no Shapiro attached. I didn’t bother correcting Ivy. I figured that we’d only be talking this one night then never see each other again. So, being on first term bases wasn’t really part of the agenda. Plus, I had to somehow get her to leave before Vinnie got here. I mean, if she wanted to walk out of here with those high-heeled stilettos on in tacked.

At that moment, the front door of Uncle Frankie's opened and in came Vinnie, snowflakes dotting his black wool coat, followed shortly by Benny, Al, and Valentino. “Yo Frankie!” Vinnie’s voice echoed over the crowd. “Get me four Scotches,” he paused, “and a beer for me…on the rocks.”

“Straight on it Boss,” Uncle Frankie said.

Vinnie walked to the hall closest to hang up his coat. When he came back into the room, he quickly spotted me at the bar. I instantly began talking to Uncle Frankie, asking him if he could also get me a Scotch on the rocks. It didn’t fool Vinnie though. He took one quick look at Ivy and began walking towards the bar.

“I think you should be heading out now,” I whispered to Ivy. “It’s starting to snow.”

“There’s no rush,” Ivy said resting her head in her hands.

“Well, yes there is,” I said nodding my head in Vinnie’s ever-nearing direction.

“Right,” Ivy said coldly, clearly getting what I was getting at. “I clearly don’t fit.” She began to rise. “What? Is it because I’m not Italian enough for this joint?” she yelled.

“No,” a cool voice answered. Vinnie was standing right behind me. “It’s because we don’t welcome your kind here,” he said eyeing her from head to toe.

“Whore,” Al muttered as he passed by us, making his way to the backroom.

“Excuse me?” Ivy went. “Who you cawling a whore?”

“You.” Vinnie said. “Now get yourself to one of them whore houses. Tell your pimp that we don’t want his workers at Uncle Frankie’s. That he got no customers here.” With that, Vinnie opened the front door for Ivy. The storm outside was getting heavy and bits of snowflakes fluttered into the bar. Ivy picked up her small wool coat, put it on and walked out of the bar. Once it all settled down, Vinnie motioned for me to follow him into the backroom where the other guys were. Uncle Frankie handed me my drink and I followed Vinnie into the backroom.

“I don’t want you conversating with them whores,” Vinnie said pulling up a seat and joining the others. I followed suit, pulling up a chair and sitting down. “Not that one, not one ever. Them pimps don’t play, especially the pimps around here. They all work for them Gambino’s and I—we don’t get along all too well with them Gambino’s.”

“Vinnie,” I started, “I was just trying to get her to leave before you came in. I meant no harm.”

“The hell he didn’t!” Al said taking a long drag on his cigar. Fat Al; I hated Fat Al. He was a self-centered bastard with a dick for a brain. I never liked him. He drank too much and talked too loud. Al always talked shit too. Nothing with meaning; nothing relevant. He was always getting into some sort of fight with people too. The guy liked to start fights; he thrived for confrontation. Shit, if I were in his position, I wouldn’t start shit with no one. I mean, being so close to Vinnie, it would endanger Vinnie’s wellbeing. Yeah, we couldn’t have that. We needed Vinnie. With Vinnie gone, we’d all be apart of the true Gambino clan; at least most of us would get sucked back in. With Vinnie gone, Benny would be charge and Benny was a dumbass. Shit, that guy couldn’t even tell his right hand from his left. He was a good undertaker though. He could shoot a hole in a guy’s head without even having to think. You felt protected with him. But God was he stupid.

“Now kid,” Vinnie started, his hands folded on the table, “I’m going to say this and I’m only going to say it once: we don’t do prostitutes. Whatever the cause, whatever the situation might be, we don’t do whores, especially them Gambino’s whores.”

“Okay Vinnie.” I said.

“Besides,” Vinnie continued, “you’re a good looking kid. You should go out and get a nice girl. Italian! Yeah, a nice Italian girl.”

“Who can cook,” Valentino added. They all laughed. Ha! Valentino, the jester. All around nice guy too. He reminded me of my Uncle Marty. Yet, my Uncle Marty had a temper problem. It’s like he was bi polar or something. He scared people a lot, Uncle Marty did. Anyway, he died. No one really went to his funeral. No one wanted to be tagged. Them Gambino’s are no people to mess with.

“Let’s get to business,” Vinnie said. “My cousin Sonny is gonna be here in less than five minutes. So we should be prepared.” Vinnie raised his eyebrows, indicating that everyone should get into their positions. Then turning to me he said, “go watch by the door Joey. Sonny should be coming with Ralph, Chingy, Sal and Mousey.” I nodded and left the room. There was always some excuse to get me out of the room when there was a meeting going to happen. “He’s too young,” use to be the main reason to get me out. But now that I was older it was all “he’s not a member yet Vinnie” or “he might talk Vinnie.” But I would leave anyway. See, it was always better to be on the good sides of the other guys. I needed them to vouch for me when it was time to become a real member.

“Joey!” Uncle Frankie called out to me as I made my way to the entrance of the bar to look out for Cousin Sonny. I turned around to look to see what he wanted but he simply cocked his head. But I knew that he wanted to know if the meeting was starting soon. I nodded my head in response, and then walked out of the bar.

It was snowing harder than I remembered. I didn’t grab my coat see, cause I didn’t think it was going to take them a long time to show up. Yet, even those five minutes out in that weather gave me a chill. Soon a sleek black car pulled up to the curb and I stood watching the door open and Mousey step out. Sal, Chingy and Ralph followed, then finally Sonny. I waved to them and opened the door to Uncle Frankie’s and guided them in.

I led them into the bar and Uncle Frankie came around the bar to take their coats and take their drinking orders.

“Five Scotches would be good Frankie,” Sonny said.

Uncle Frankie nodded and disappeared behind the bar. I motioned for the guys to follow me, yet they walked passed me having known the way to get to the backroom already. I followed them hoping that this time I might have a chance to get into the meeting, but Fat Al turned me away as I entered the room. He grinned at me and shut the door in my face. I hated Fat Al.

So the meeting got started without me, and I sat there in a slump. I really wanted to know what they were talking about. My Scotch glass was still in my hand and as I took the last sip my throat was burning for more. I glanced down the hall, yet didn’t see Frankie by the bar. I looked down at my glass again, ate the last bits of ice and dried the glass with a napkin I took out of my pocket. See, I saw this in a movie once but never thought it would work. But I decided to try it anyway. I took the glass and pressed it against the door of the backroom and pressed my ear to it. The sound was a little muffled but I was able to make it out.

“Why don’t you just make up with Vito?” I heard Sonny say.

There was a hustle of movement and whispers, followed by Vinnie’s voice saying, “I don’t have nothing to say to him.” And just like that, the subject of Vito Gambino was dropped.

Vinnie wasn’t the type to talk about his brother, or any of his other family members he felt had disowned him. They all had to make a choice and to Vinnie, they all made the wrong choice. See, Vito Gambino is Vinnie’s older brother and head honcho of the Gambino family’s dealings. Dino, the Boss, Gambino was their father. Yet, when Dino died due to the cancer that was eating away at his colon and lungs, he passed the family business down to Vito, at least that is what Vito and the majority of the family thinks. Vinnie on the other hand didn’t think that and neither did Uncle Frankie, Al, Benny, Valentino, and the other guys who sided with Vinnie.

So basically this was all one big family dispute. Now the civil way to deal with this would have been for Vito to get rid of Vinnie, but being his older brother and all, Vito couldn’t do it nor could he allow it; he loved his brother too much. Vinnie on the other hand didn’t care too much for his brother, but the rest of the family threatened that if Vinnie killed Vito, that they’d come after him. So, Vinnie did what he thought was second best. He left and made his own following, and those who thought Vinnie was the rightful Boss followed.

“What about the kid?” I heard Valentino ask as I listened. Sonny was about to speak when I heard a huff behind me. I dropped the glass onto the soft carpet and looked up. Uncle Frankie was hovering over me with a tray of drinks in hand, scowling.

“What are you doing Joey?” he whispered.

“Oh, nothin’,” I said concealing the glass from his view.

“You know, there’s a reason why they don’t let you into these meetings,” Frankie said. “Now get out of here. Go home. And if you don’t want to go home, go take a walk. Come back when you think the meeting’s over.” With that, Uncle Frankie knocked on the door. Al opened it and before I could get to my feet, Uncle Frankie had disappeared into the room.

I probably huffed and cursed to myself, yet eventually I went to the hall closet, grabbed my coat and left, leaving the empty glass on the floor by the door of the backroom for Frankie to pick up. It was still storming outside. I pulled on my long wool coat and popped the collar to shield my neck from the wind. I dug my hands into my warm pockets and began to walk down the street. It was dark out and there wasn’t really anybody around. I had no idea where I was going, but Uncle Frankie said to take a walk and that was what I was doing.

I crossed the street as a car swerved by blinking its lights. I ignored it, like I did everything, and kept walking. The driver honked their horn, probably to yell at me for crossing against the light, yet I simply kept walking, ignoring their attempts at confrontation.

“Hey Shapiro!” I heard someone yell from behind me. I turned around and saw Ivy poking her head through the driver’s side window of the car whose honk I had ignored. “Wha’cha doing wawking out here at night in the cold for?”

I shrugged.

“Well c’mon! I’ll give you a ride.” I didn’t need a ride anywhere because I wasn’t really planning on going anywhere, yet I still decided to get in the car. Why? Well, it’s just like asking that first question. I still have no idea. “So what happened? That big shot Italian guy kicked you out too?”

“No,” I told her looking out the windshield at the empty snow covered road in front of us. “I just needed to get out for awhile. Actually, I didn’t really need a ride.”

I felt Ivy turn her head to look at me. “Then why did you get in the car for?”

I gave another shrug. “I don’t know.”

Ivy laughed. “You’re a funny one,” she said, driving a little bit further before pulling over and letting me out.

I got out of the car just as a small black car pulled up behind Ivy’s. The doors on either side of the car opened and out came Vinnie’s cousins Carlito, Dante and Tony. Despite the fact that these guys were Vinnie's family, none of them were on his side.

“Shit!” I said. “What the fuck is this?”

“Nothin’,” Tony said walking up to me. “We just needing a little information, which you will be providing us with very shortly.” He was licking his lips and rubbing his hands together like he was hungry. With Tony, that was never a good sign.

I spun around. “Ivy! What the fuck is this?” I asked indicating the others.

“I dunno,” she said smacking her lips together. “I just do what I’m told.” Bitch. She had me at “hello Mr. Shapiro.”

I turned back to face Tony. For a moment I felt like I should run, but if I did, they’d really think I knew something. But I didn’t, see. So I played it cool.

“Well, I don’t know what you guys want,” I said. And in all honesty, I really hadn’t a clue.

“We want to know what Vinnie’s been up to,” Tony said standing real close to me. I could feel his stale smelly breath on my face. It smelled like garlic and basil.

“Yeah,” Carlito added. “And we know that shit about stealing one of Vito’s trucks, so don’t give us that shit.”

“I ain’t got nothing to say,” I told them, “other than that I don’t know nothing.”

Tony cocked his head to the side signaling Dante to come over. “Frisk his ass.”

Dante rushed over to me and began searching my body for a weapon. “I don’t have nothing on me.”

“Shut up,” Tony said as Dante continued his search.

“Look, I don’t have anything on me,” I repeated. “I don’t know what you want.”

“I said, shut up!” Tony said, drawing out his gun from his coat pocket.

Before I even had sufficient amount of time to react, Dante jabbed his knee into my crotch and I fell to the wet ground in pain. Someone then began to kick me on my back, my side and my stomach. Dante then grabbed me by my coat collar and Tony asked again, “what’s Vinnie been up to?”

“I don’t know,” I said and soon after Dante’s knuckle made contact with my face.

Tony laughed. “You a pretty good looking kid,” he said. “Now tell me, we know Vinnie’s been up to something.”

“Well if he has, then it’s nothing I know about,” I spat.

“Wrong answer kid,” Tony said as I took two more blows from Dante and fell back onto the wet ground. In the distance I could hear the siren of a police car approaching and Ivy’s voice yelling “shit, the cops!” and I watched her feet disappear into her car and watched the car drive off.

I tried to lift myself up, but when I did, someone kicked me in the back and I fell down. There was a loud sound of a glass bottle shattering next to my head and the last thing I heard before the police arrive were the tire screeches of Carlito’s car driving off. Moments later I heard a door slam.

“He’s beat up bad,” one of the officers said. “And looks like he’s been drinking.”

“Eh, let’s bring him in,” I heard the other officer say from the car.

“Come on kid,” the officer said lifting me off of the ground, cuffing me, then guiding me and shoving me into the back of the car. Next thing you know, I’m being shoved into a dingy looking cell with two black eyes, nose bleeding all over my new suit, knuckles busted, a gash along the side of my face and an ache in my leg, which made me all to glad they didn’t just kill me on the spot like they do everybody else. And…well, you know what happens next.

“Vinnie’s waiting for you at the lot,” Fat Al said when we were in the car driving away from the police station. “Sonny warned about Vito doing something, but you were long gone before he did.” Turns out Vito was using Tony and the guys to get me to talk about Vinnie’s business. But I didn’t talk; Vinnie would have to believe me.

“We don’t know how much you spilled kid, but Vinnie, he ain’t taking no chances,” Fat Al said pulling up at the curb of Uncle Frankie’s vacant lot. I got out of the car and so did Al. I turned to look at him, but it was obvious by his expression that he wasn’t moving from that spot by the car. “Go on,” he said. “Vinnie's waiting for you.”